


The Murder of Mayor McDonough

by PeacefulPhoenix



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Detective Story, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hancock is a femme fatale, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Murder accusations, Nick does the noir internal monologue thing, Noire - Freeform, Who Done It?, canon-divergence, fight me, ghoul racism, noir style, relationship troubles, serious angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6303001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulPhoenix/pseuds/PeacefulPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a murder is afoot in Diamond City, the town calls on the only one capable of solving the crime - synth detective, Nick Valentine. All signs point to one suspect in particular, the detective's lover, John Hancock, mayor of Goodneighbor. Will Nick be able to prove his innocence before it's too late? Find out in The Murder of Mayor McDonough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Valentine's Detective Agency

Dust danced in the yellow light thrown off by the various lamps scattered throughout the room. Glowing yellow eyes scanned the room as metal finger clicked loudly against the wooden desk. The detective’s small office in Diamond City was beginning to become over run. It seemed there was never an end to the cases. Affairs, murder, theft, and disappearances were not a thing of the old world it seemed. To think that people once thought that perhaps the end of the world would bring what was left together. What they would’ve thought if they could see the world now.

Smoke curled from the holes in the sides of the detective's face as he took in a long drag of a cigarette. Damn things weren’t very effective anymore but the damn habit was harder to kill than he was these days. 

He had a… special case to deal with tonight. One who was nearly an hour late now. Were it anyone else perhaps he’d have locked up for the night already. This one was worth waiting for. At least, that’s what he’d thought. 

As the clock ticked on, Valentine threw his feet up on his desk, leaning back and tipping his hat forward. Sure, it wasn’t the best luck to wear hats indoors but bad luck had already chewed him up and spit him out. Maybe karma could let this one slide.

Another puff of smoke curled its way towards the ceiling, cigarette burning bright for a moment. A flick of his finger sent ash flying off the tip, some of it landing on his shirt. The damn thing had gone from white to brown and grey years ago so no point about worrying about it anymore. 

His processors and fans spiralled down as the time passed, switching from active to passive modes. It was the closest to sleep an old robot like him could get. It was becoming abundantly clear that he’d be spending the rest of the night alone. The prospect hardly surprised him. There were a lot of dangers that could’ve kept his companion. It wasn’t like his kind was exactly welcome around these parts and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d failed to slip through the many cracks in the wall. 

Just as his optics were switching off the door creaked slowly open, a sound that seemed far too loud and drawn out for the silence it disturbed. There was only enough light streaming in to silhouette the figure in the doorway. A trenchcoat and very memorable hat. His appointment.

As Valentine’s own hat tipped backwards, the newcomer’s tipped forward. “Not a very safe place you live, detective. Streets ‘round here are filled with all sorts of dangerous folk. Came here with troubles aplenty, hopin’ for a fix, and the journey nearly kills me. Quite some irony, isn’t it?” 

The door slid back to home with a thud as he let the coat fall from his shoulders, ending in a pile on the floor next to the coat rack. It was a real shame when someone treated a nice coat like that. Hurt just a little, especially with how beat up his own had gotten over the years. Thing must be more patch than coat at this point.

What the trenchcoat dropped to reveal made it all worth it, though. The usual red frock and blue vest that so symbolized the ghoul had been set aside for the night, it seemed, leaving him with only his undershirt and breeches. It was almost impossible to stop his eyes from wander over the exposed skin on his chest, the curve of his thighs complemented by subtly heeled boots, the splash of color provided by the flag tied loosely around his waist.

How such a man continued to find himself in the office of a beat up old synth he certainly couldn’t understand. As the seat across from his was occupied, Valentine could do little more than hold out a box of cigarettes. The ghoul slid one from the pack, balanced it between his lips and leaned forward toward the lighter held to him between two metal fingers. The first stream of smoke shooting from his lips had his head spinning. 

“I’d hate to meet whatever even had a chance of killing you, Hancock.” The bright red splashes of blood on the ghoul’s shirt just illustrated his point. “You’re pretty proficient with that knife if I remember correctly.” He’d seen him sit in that exact chair spinning his knife between his fingers for hours before, pausing only to sharpen it occasionally. It shouldn’t have distracted him as much as it was. Maybe Valentine had always just had too much of a draw to the dangerous. 

The point seemed to bring a chuckle to his lips though. “That’s what I’ve been told. My customers can’t exactly pay me their thanks like yours can but I’m racking up quite the reputation, I think.” He leaned forward, elbows finding a place on the cluttered desk and staring right into his companion’s eyes, blowing smoke into his face. “Lost the knife though. Had to bring out the shotgun.”

Valentine’s fans kicked up a couple notches. For several seconds it was unclear if the change was due to the smoke or the idea of the ghoul blowing away ferals, supermutants, and raiders alike with his shotgun. When the air was cleared and the whir continued to resound around the room, the question was answered for the both of them. 

There was a slight hiss as Hancock snubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray and leaned forward, catching the synth’s chin in his fingers. Had he the ability, Valentine had little doubt his cheeks would have flushed at how boldly his “client” was now mounting the table to crawl towards him. 

The ancient wood creaked and seemed ready to give out. It didn’t stop ghoul nor synth from bringing their lips together. Each, it seemed, had enough of the games. The real reason the mayor of Goodneighbor had paid a visit to the detective of Diamond City had never been a secret to either one of them. When the calloused fingers travelled from Valentine’s chin to his tie it also became very clear to him the Hancock had no intentions of playing the victim. Not tonight anyways. 

The flicker of the lights and whirs and creaks of the room around them fell to the background as each became too caught up in the other. A life in the Commonwealth was a hard one, even in cities such as this. Hell, sometimes the cities even seemed more dangerous than the monstrosities of the waste. Always there was some crisis, some helpless dame that needed saving, something to kill.

A whispered innuendo, breath hot against his ear or lips ghosting across his own, leaving him wanting more, was enough to make Valentine forget that. Hancock was more than happy to fill his head with dozens of other downright dirty thoughts and pictures instead. He couldn’t complain.

Least of all, not when the ghoul crawled the rest of the way across the table and into his lap. Skeletal metal fingers traced their way under his partner’s thin shirt, across the rough skin of his chest. It was a damned shame he’d lost the skin of that hand a long time ago. His sensors had gone to so no longer could he feel every ridge and dip, each smooth patch of burnt and scarred skin. His hearing was still working just fine and each gasp for air or breathy moan came across loud and clear. 

“You know, I never did ask about those problems you had. What could be so pressing that you’d make the dangerous trip from Goodneighbor to Diamond City? You in some kind of trouble, doll?” Valentine took great care to speak each word with perfect clarity and composition, punctuating each sentence with several seconds of kisses pressed to the ghoul’s throat. 

The heavy, raspy note in his breath as he spoke was reply enough. “I think you know just what troubles a guy like me has, Detective.” Their eyes locked, a slight smirk now tugging at the synth’s lips. “Think you might be up to the job?”

It was far too late that Valentine noticed the yelling and heavy footfalls outside his small office. What they were saying exactly, he wasn’t sure but it was clear something was going down. Whatever peace the city had once had was gone again. The same fate befell the two companions as the detective’s door was suddenly thrown open. There was no hiding what was going on as several members of Diamond City security stampeded into the office. 

“Detective, you gotta come right away!”

The voice and accompanying click of the door cut through whatever semblance of peace remained in the office. Seconds later, four more men were crowded into the small office. Had he not had his arms wrapped around the ghoul on his lap, perhaps the air would not have hung so thickly. But as it were, an uncomfortable silence fell.

The looks they tried desperately to hide weren’t new to the synth. The immediate surprise, then shock and disgust. To their credit, they at least tried to hide it. Had Myrna been here, there was no doubt she would not have been as kind. Not that he expected kindness from anyone these days. 

Thanking whatever higher beings may be left on this godforsaken planet that he couldn’t breath, Valentine did his best to speak evenly. The slight husk despite that, tipped off his new company to exactly what they had intruded on. “Agency’s closed for the night, gentlemen. And I’ve got a client to attend to already.” Two of the security cast a glance to each other while another coughed uncomfortably. “Surely whatever you need can wait until tomorrow.”

The fourth, a leader it seemed, by the looks his friends were shooting him, seemed unfazed. Even as Nick turned his intense, yellow stare upon him, he stood firm. Of course, Nick knew him. He was Diamond City born and bred. Kid had grown up, used to the mannerism of the old synth detective so of course he wouldn’t be so easy to intimidate. “Mayor McDonough is dead.”

All banter stopped. Any humor or discomfort dropped from the faces of the men. The mayor, dead. He had it coming of course. This kind of this happened when you kicked out all the ghouls and advocated for the genocide of synths, all while veiling yourself behind a shield of the will of the people and plausible deniability. It was no secret the mayor was a real worm. It seems karma had finally given him what he had coming. 

The detective tapped out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. Hancock’s lighter was out in seconds, holding a flame to the end. It was a needless and out of place show of affection but he’d be damned if he said he didn’t appreciate it. “You’re here for my services, then?” 

The guard who’d spoken nodded. “That’s right.” He shifted his weight between his feet, floorboards creaking beneath him. Nick said nothing. The kid would speak when he had something to say. For now, the fine, burning sensation of the smoke as it passed through the breaks in his synthetic skin was enough. It was the only chance at peace he had in this whole mess.

Even that became obsolete as the man took a step forward, fingers fumbling for silver handcuffs. This must’ve been his first time. “And as I’m sure you both know, ghouls aren’t allowed in the city. I’m gonna need to arrest you.”

Both ghoul and synth began talking at once. “Like hell you are!” exclaimed Hancock, baring his teeth and using what he had taken to referring as his ‘mayor voice’. It struck fear into the hearts of hardened mercenaries and raiders alike and inspired others. It was clear that all four of the security fell into the former category. 

The detective stood, putting himself between the two, one arm held out protectively. “Is that really necessary? Perhaps in light of more pressing events, this could be overlooked?” It wasn’t the first time they would have ‘failed to notice’ something with a bit of persuasion and Nick certainly wasn’t afraid to bring out his stash of caps. There wasn’t much for a synth who neither ate nor drank to spend money on. 

“In light of recent events, there’s no way I could overlook this. We find a ghoul in the city the same night McDonough’s found dead? Sorry, detective.” It was the most confident he had seen the kid all night. Hancock’s slumped shoulders and soft sigh confirmed that he knew that was coming. 

Valentine stepped aside, allowing the ghoul to be cuffed. Whispering, “I’ll get you out, I promise,” as he was led past. Taking in another deep breath of cigarette smoke, the detective turned to the security that remained. “Take me to the crime scene.”


	2. Mankind for McDonough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Valentine goes to the office of the former Mayor of Diamond City to see what he can learn about the murder.

Over 5 years ago, in the year 2282, Diamond City changed. What once had been the great green jewel of the Commonwealth began to fall apart. The renovated ballpark had never been far off from a shanty town. Houses and stores were little more than scrap wood and metal hobbled together, two steps from breaking apart all together but once upon a time, it had at least been a shithole anyone could live in. Hell, they’d even let in a synth like Valentine.

The change? The election of Mayor McDonough, the man whose death he had now been tasked with investigating. At first, it had all seemed like a joke. “Mankind for McDonough.” He campaigned under a simple promise: to rid the city of the ghoul problem. No one thought he could actually get elected. Until he did.

It had been a scene like something out of a monster movie that Nick Valentine had watched back before the war. A mob, some carrying pitchforks or guns had gone from house to house, dragging ghouls into the streets. Throughout the entire night he’d heard screams, gunshots, and the ever-present roar of the word zombie. All while the new mayor stood in his office in the stands, watching it all unfold. 

Many in the city may have forgotten that fateful night, but he had not. As Hancock was dragged from his office and into the street, he couldn’t help but be reminded. One of Diamond City’s finest stood on either side of the ghoul though they seemed rather disinterested in stopping the onslaught of shouts, shoves, or spit that came flying his way. 

Valentine could do little but stand in the shadows, watching it happen. His place here had always been strenuous. Rushing into an angry crowd to save his ghoul lover from their hate would win him little affection. There was no need to remind them of the obvious fact that he, too, was not human. 

Instead, he lit another cigarette and tipped down the brim of his fedora and popped the collar of his trench coat. The two remaining security folks escorted him in the opposite direction, pushing the crowd out of the way. He kept his hands in his pockets and his head down, making his way through the mass without much trouble. They had more important things to focus on than an old detective like him right now. 

The rest of Diamond City was eerily quiet. Aside from Percy shouting deals from his store, no one was around. Wind whistled through the stands and buildings creaked and swayed quietly. Lights flickered off and then on again, sending shadows dancing across the streets and walls. It wasn’t too hard to imagine why some here believed the place was haunted. He’d bet that even more would subscribe to the theory when this night was all said and done. 

It wasn’t until he was riding the elevator up to the office that things began to feel alive once more. The harsh electric lights off the office drove away the dark of the night as he stepped in. Some little piece of the old Nick moved the cigarette from his mouth to an ashtray by instinct, snubbing it out.

A quick look around the scene showed the step to avoid contaminating the evidence was all a waste. Valentine recognized the heavy boot treads that had tracked the blood around the room instantly. Another shining example of what these buffoons were capable off. 

At least they had done some things right. The secretary, Geneva, stood off to his left, shaking and talking to one of the officers. Poor broad was probably the one who found him. To his right, in front of the mayor’s window, lay the body. The area was roped off, keeping most people out. He stepped right under.

It was a gruesome scene if he’d ever saw one. The mayor had never been very well liked for obvious reasons but even this seemed excessive. Red blood pooled out, staining the yellowing white and green tiles of the room and running in the cracks between them. Streaks of blood painted the ceiling, the walls, the window. A scene like this wasn’t often seen these days outside of super mutant camps.

They weren’t, however, the ones who committed this crime. No, it was humanity - or some version of it. Someone with thoughts, a mind, a soul, had done this. Even Diamond City, it seemed, could not be completely free of the brutal ways most of the Commonwealth lived. Even the apocalypse couldn’t halt evil. 

The synth crouched down beside the body, bright yellow eyes scanning for evidence. It was an obvious crime of pure rage. Whether or not it was planned remained unclear. The roughly 13 stab wounds spoke clearly that this was personal. McDonough had known his attacker very personally. The weapon was nowhere to be found. 

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the scene was the former Mayor’s head. Particularly the fact that some of it seemed to be missing. At first it had seemed to perhaps be blunt force trauma. Closer inspection proved other wise. The edges of the wound were clean, clearly made with a knife, likely the same one that had been used to stab him. 

Something had been removed from the mutilated area. What it was, he couldn’t tell. The tissue was too damaged to get a clear picture but one clue did remain. A wire. Nick pulled on it carefully with two metal fingers and found it resisting the movement. It seemed to be attached in him somewhere.

He had done enough repairs on himself to know what this may mean. The charming mayor of Diamond City so outwardly unaccepting of synths was one himself. What irony.

How the perpetrator may have known was still unclear. In fact, much of the story was. How had he gotten in and out unseen? Or perhaps someone had seen something. Where was the murder weapon? Had the killer even known about the synth components or had someone who found the body afterwards mutilated it to find the mayor’s secrets? Who would have this much rage? 

“Mr. Valentine, sir?” The voice of one of Diamond City security pulled him from his ruminations. “Geneva’s ready to talk.” The detective nodded and stood, adjusting his worn fedora atop his head. 

The old dame was shaking something fierce, red - almost brown now - blood staining her normally immaculate shirt. Yet, she stood tall, attempting as always to appear the epitome of control. He couldn’t help but admire her for that and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He spoke her name as friendly and cheerfully as one could in such a situation. She responded with his own, her own tone much more cooly. 

Wasting no time, the synth found a notebook in his hand. “Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? Why don’t you tell me what happened?” And she did. A simple story, easy enough to verify. Her night had been spent in town, visiting a gentleman whose name she had provided. She’d been gone not an hour before returning to find the mayor in his current state, the office empty. 

“And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone else?” he prompted. This murder hadn’t been a quick affair. Either she had actually seen something without remember it or she was lying. “The market gets pretty scarce at night. Maybe you saw someone there you didn’t recognize?”

The dame turned her face from the light, letting much of it fall to shadows and she let out an indignant huff of air. After several seconds, her expression softened, morphing into something akin to confusion. “I might have, now that you mention it. I thought it was you at first, but…” she trailed off, casting her gaze to the floor before finding her voice again and meeting his stare. “I saw a figure in a trench coat. Seemed to be heading in the direction of your office. Didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

Considering the detective hadn’t left his office all night, the information gave him pause. There had been someone else out in a trench coat that night. The security guard standing to his side seemed to remember this as well and spoke before the had a chance. “Did you get a look at his face? Could’ve been a ghoul, right?”

Even a first year trainee knew never to suggest things to someone you were interviewing. It was a rookie move. Just one more item in an ever-growing list of the incompetences of Diamond City’s finest. There was no doubt that without the detective the city would have fallen long ago. As Nick expected, Geneva nodded at the suggestion. “It could have been.”

The two men’s eyes met, bright yellow and black staring down green. The exchange was silent but clear. The list of suspects wasn’t short but on the top of the list, a ghoul who had been seen wearing a trench coat and who was known for his skills with a knife. John Hancock.


	3. The Perfect Creature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick frees John from jail and smuggles him from the city. As they talk, more of the case seems to fall into place.

When Nick finally made his way to the Diamond City Security office he was immediately greeted to a barrage of sound. His footsteps and the click of the door went largely unnoticed, drowned by the raised voices and metallic banging. Pausing his movement, the synth stopped to listen. It was never a bad idea to see what someone might reveal when they didn't know you were listening. 

The first voice was gravelly and loud. Obviously that of Hancock. He'd heard that voice before. Many times in fact. It had become infamous in Goodneighbor and had even earned a nickname: the Mayor Voice. “You've got no right to keep me here! Your own policies dictate that you kick ghouls out, not trap them in a cage like some kind of animal! What? Scared I’ll go feral?” There was a silent challenge there. As his voice dipped for the last sentence Nick saw it easy to finish the thought himself. ‘Keep me here and I will.’ Thankfully, even with how hot-headed he was, he knew when to hold his tongue.

It was no surprise to Nick that Hancock was so desperate to be released. This wasn't his first time behind those bars. Not by a long shot. He had spent enough time there to learn every weak point, every letter carved into the cement, the name of everyone in the room. Yet none of them knew him. The last time the ghoul had found himself here he’d been someone else entirely. He'd been a human. John McDonough, chem-addicted kid brother to the man who had died that night. The night the mayor had been elected, John had disappeared with the ghouls, finding a new home and a new name in Goodneighbor.

Very few knew the secret these days. The late mayor, the detective, and a few of the ghouls who had puzzled it out were among the privileged few. To the rest of the world, John McDonough had died years ago. It was better that way. For everyone.

The temporary silence was once again broken by Hancock’s raised voice. “What are you guys really keeping me here for? With McDonough gone, that ‘no ghoul’ rule’s worthless anyways! I got as much right to visit Valentine as any of you! Or is that it? You got a problem with synths and ghouls?”

The detective had seen enough folks roughed up in that cell to know what was coming next and took up a brisk walk to the end of the hall just as one of the security men was reaching for his keys and another bounced a baseball bat in the palm of his hand. The florescent bulbs that lit the room gave each a feral, animalistic look of their own, and had Nick not known both since they were children, perhaps he would have stayed silent. As it was, however, he had a lover to defend. “Boys, what have I told you about handling the prisoners?”

The synth stood directly under one of the lights, hands stuffed in pockets and hat tipped back, face the picture of calm. A lesser man would have shrunk from the looks of disgust and anger he now found staring him down. After years of seeing them on so many faces, it was hardly enough to rattle him. It would be a lie to say that seeing it on faces so familiar wasn’t chilling however. 

Glances were exchanged. “He ain’t even human, boss. It’s not the same,” one finally said. The silence that followed seemed to affect all of them; strong, grown men reduced to the likes of school children who knew they had done something wrong, heads hung and shifting from foot to fit. The only thing to break the silence was the shuffling of their own clothes. Even the processors in Valentine seemed to have taken a temporary hush. 

It was typical really. His eyes narrowed and the yellow light that shone in them seemed brighter than normal, more piercing. “They may not be human anymore, but who do you think becomes ghouls?” Had Nick believed the man would answer, perhaps he would have left him time to speak. That was not the case. “Humans. Even the infamous John Hancock was once a human like you. Now, if you don’t mind undoing the cuffs and opening the cell, he’s coming with me.”

None of them moved. His eyes shifted from one to another. Each, in turn, looked to the others as though trying to decide who would answer or perhaps deciding how to. After some whispers and shuffling of feet, one stepped closer and leaned in, voice almost a whisper. “Well, ain’t he the one who done it? Can’t just be letting him out, can we?” The furrow in his brow and purse of his lips made it appear as the legitimate question it was and not the veiled threat it so easily could have been. 

As such, the detective stood tall, shoulders rolled back, and chin tipped down to catch the gaze of the shorter man. It truly was remarkable how easy it was to intimidate the finest Diamond City had to offer. It really was surprising that the entire town hadn’t fallen to shit. Maybe this would be the thing to do it. Though… the current state of the place wasn’t far off. 

“Mayor Hancock was with me all night.” The detective paused for a moment, drawing out the last two words. Had he looked up, he would have seen that the confused faces of the guards matched the ghoul’s own. Thankfully, no one did. While rather embarrassing, the compromising situation they had been found in was not entirely for waste. “There is no way that he could have killed anyone. Now release him.” 

No time was wasted in following the command this time.

Without a word or a glance at his companion, Nick turned around, coat sweeping out behind him. Each hasty step caused ripples through the thick fabric as it billowed behind him. Let it be known that the reason he’d kept the damn thing around all these years was it was reliable. Rarely would it tear or rip and it was decent at keeping the elements out. That wasn’t to say, of course, that he didn’t realize the power it wielded. Doubly so for an old prewar mind like his that knew just how to use it. 

The detective needn't look to know the ghoul was following him. The familiar click of heeled boots, feet falling far more frequently than his own, was enough. The detective’s careful eyes scanned the streets and crowds as they made their way down back alleys. At this point, anything could be a threat. Neither man belonged in this city. That was becoming more and more evident by the minute. A hasty escape was their last chance. 

It was only minutes before they reached their destination: a small hole in the wall, covered only by a couple chairs from the stands. The infamous wall, known far and wide for keeping out raiders and super mutants alike, had many such holes actually, known well to those who often needed to slip in and out undetected. Most of the holes had been patched up after a certain reporter wrote an article about them but this one remained.

It had been a long night and slowly the rich blues and the sparkle of stars in the night sky were replaced by the yellows and pinks of sunrise, beams of light spilling above and between the tall buildings of downtown Boston. Each step the duo made seemed to sheppard the day faster and bring danger closer. These streets were infested with all sorts of trouble. It seemed around each corner were a pack of ravenous dogs, humans ready to tear away their flesh for a few caps, or a super mutant horde. The night brought with it the threat of running into any of these unknowingly. The tell-tale signs of each were harder to see in the dark. Yet the day found them exposed, easily seen in the mostly empty streets; prizes ripe for the taking. 

The synth drew his small revolver, holding it in his good hand as the other withdrew the Mayor’s famous shotgun, handing it over wordlessly. John’s black eyes caught Nick’s golden one’s for a moment, head turned over his shoulder as he took the gun. They had done this song and dance before. Many times actually. 

Each turned in a different direction, walking slowly and scanning over the building. The whistle of the wind between walls of brick, the sound of distant gunfire, the steady cracks of glass beneath their shoes - these were the sounds that were familiar. The sudden bash of a metal trash can tipping over and a mole rat fleeing the scene of the crime. The rhythmic clicking of a super mutant suicider. Every so often a beam of light would catch a shattered window and imitate a muzzle flash. 

A half-step back found their arms brushing together. It was a simple gesture. There was no real reason the old synth should find it comforting, and yet he did. His auditory sensors barely picked up the small sigh that Hancock let out. The knowledge that he wasn’t the only one to like it eased his mind if only a little. Soon they would be in the relative safety of Hancock’s home.

Goodneighbor was never intended to be a welcoming or friendly city. Nestled in between several partially destroyed building and bridges along with several super mutant bands, it was a dangerous city to even get to and reaching the gates didn’t always guarantee an escape. Nick remembered the men who had formed the small town. He had worked the case that had gotten them exiled from Diamond City. It was a slap on the wrist to say the very least. They had deserved more but most of the townsfolk had seen the exile as a death sentence anyways. Instead, they made a town as ruthless as they were.

Until Hancock had arrived on the scene, it had been a town of thieves, criminals, and raiders. It was the best place to score both drugs and a knife to the back. The seedy back alleys that served as their homes had been infested constantly by death, streets never quite rid of the blood. After the ghouls were all sent from Diamond City, most found their way there. Not all of them made it.

John had changed things. He’d made the city a safe haven for all sorts of folk. Ghouls, chem addicts, hell, even synths like him found a new home in Goodneighbor. Looking back, it was the first time Nick had ever seen something in the kid. John McDonough had always had some kind of crush on him; the new John Hancock, the protector of the people and mayor of Goodneighbor, that was the man that had finally caught his attention. 

The pair went straight for the office upon arriving to town, both brushing off questions and looks from the crowd that had gathered upon noticing their approach. Word, of course, travelled quickly in the Commonwealth. Every person there knew of the murder, of the arrest, of their relationship. “I’ll explain everything soon. For now, I have business to attend to,” the mayor explained calmly and quickly before entering the statehouse and locking the doors behind him.

The sounds of the talking and feet falling and the distant melodies of Magnolia fell away as they found themselves alone in the mayor’s office. The air seemed heavy, almost stale but it was a welcome reprieve from the world outside. In here, the two could be alone - something each had been craving for quite some time. 

Hancock wasted no time taking advantage of it, sliding his trench coat from his shoulders and catching his lover’s metal hand in one of his own. With each step, his hips swayed just so, causing the flag around his waist to sway back and forth. Nick found himself having a hard time keeping his eyes off it. When gnarled hands pressed against his chest and pushed him backward into the couch he let out a surprised huff of air. “So... now that you’ve got me all alone, what’s your plan, detective? Gonna make me pay you back for bustin’ me out of jail?” the ghoul said as he sunk to his knees, leaning forward so one hand rested on the synth’s knee and the other on his thigh. 

It was a pretty sight and one the detective never saw enough. His tongue brushed against false lips as he considered his options. There were several seconds where he very honestly considered abandoning his original plan and accepting the offer. John really would be the death of him. “Keep it up and just maybe I will. We both know you weren’t actually with me all night. I took a risk saying that. Wanna explain why?” Metallic fingers caught under his chin and turned it up so their eyes met. 

It was almost impossible to tell where exactly Hancock was looking, but Nick got the very distinct impression he was looking away sheepishly. “Streets were busy last night. Had to fight my way through to get to you. Took a bit of time that’s all.”

It really was a likely excuse. The perfect one, in fact. This wasn’t the first time their plans had been abandoned or delayed by the creatures that roamed Boston at night. There was no reason at all to suspect that his tardiness was at all related to the other events of the night. And yet.

“I’m sure your lost knife didn’t help the matter, did it?” Nick asked as if he had nothing on his mind beside his lover. His voice sunk and the hard swallow that Nick could feel shift the knuckles brushing against his next proved it had the intended effect. It was always such fun to treat him like this. 

Hancock responded beautifully, going so far as to crawl up onto the couch, straddling the detective once again, making sure to roll his hips as he did so. Nick didn’t bother saying anything of it. He was positive that John would claim it an accident. “Made things more difficult for sure. But you see, I really was desperate, Mister Valentine,” he said, speaking slowly and quietly, voice matching the detective’s. Fingers moved skillfully across his chest, moving the trench coat aside to undo the buttons on his shirt one by one. “I just had to see you. The thought of being in the little office with you all alone… Got me through it.” He looked up to the glowing gaze of the synth and smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was working. He really could play the synth like a damn fiddle. “That and my shotgun.”

It was a battle to keep his mind on his real objective. One he was losing if he was honest. “Oh, I had so many plans for that night too, doll. Shame you were late. Maybe we could have gotten to some of them before getting so rudely interrupted.” His real hand ran up the man’s leg, rubbing circles against the inside of his thigh. 

“You really should get locks, you know,” he breathed before leaning in for a kiss. Valentine was more than happy to reciprocate, chest now exposed. The already stale air around them seemed to grow heavier, hotter. Surely such a perfect creature couldn’t have committed any crime other than perhaps theft of whatever functioned as a heart in this old bag of nuts and bolts. 

Only when Hancock began to press kisses down his throat did he find himself able to talk. Even then, he considered not doing so. These words hardly needed speaking now. And yet, they did. Something in him needed to really know that his companion had nothing to do with the murder. “I leave it unlocked in case something important comes up. Something like that.”

“It could have waited,” John replied shortly, hardly even pausing in his work to say the words. 

Nick pushed him back, just far enough to look him in the eyes. It was obvious from the pout and whine that John did not appreciate it. Frankly, he was about to appreciate it a lot less. “Your brother just died. And you think it could have waited?” 

The mayor’s head shook and he sighed. “He was a prick. It was his fault we couldn’t be together without all the sneaking around anyways. Now won’t you let us get back to that?” He tried to lean in again but found his progress halted once more. 

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

The words brought the scene to a halt. John stared at his partner, slack-jawed while Nick stared back, doing his best to keep his face emotionless. It was one of the hardest things he’d done in a long time. Feelings of hurt and betrayal could be read in every line on the ghoul’s face. His eyes practically shimmered with it. 

After several false starts, he found his voice again. “Wait, hold up. You can’t honestly think I did this?” Nick could no longer hold his gaze and looked away. “Come on, Nick! You know me! Does this really sound like something I would do?”

Everything he had told himself from when he first heard about the murder now felt like a lie. It dawned on him for the first time that the man in his lap really could be responsible. It broke his damn heart. He wished he could ignore the signs, wished he could unsee it. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t ignore what was so clearly in front of him. 

“Yeah I do know you, Johnny. And I know this looks real bad. You showed up to my office late, wearing a trench coat, and missing a knife. Your brother was killed with a knife and the only suspect we have was a man spotted wearing a trench coat, headed my way. And as you just said, you had beef with him.”

The detective stood, making sure that the mayor ended up on the couch and not the floor as he did so. Buttons were quickly redone and his trench coat adjusted. “Nick…” He couldn’t stay. If he looked at Hancock’s face again he knew that he would cave, so he didn’t.

He made his way to the door without turning back, glancing over his shoulder only to say, “Maybe you should just lie low here while I investigate. Once I catch who did it and it all blows over, I’ll come let you know. And if you’re not telling me something… Maybe you should lie low somewhere I can’t find you.” And then he was gone, leaving Hancock alone in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to TheWeirdDane, CoffeeMug, Andromeda, and several others for helping me edit this chapter!


	4. Facing the Facts

Investigations like this one were always slow. People seemed to have this misinformed belief that crime fighting or detective work was all just one big chase scene to another. A body would show up and within the week the killer would be caught and the detective would have won his gal. That was the farthest one could get from the truth, especially nowadays. The technology that the synth could recall his human counterpart using was long gone. And sure, the commonwealth could provide its fair share of firefights but they were far less romantic than so many movies and shows had once made them out to be.

As for getting the girl, it was looking an awful lot like Valentine’s own lover might just be taking the fall for this.

After several arduous weeks, he’d gathered more evidence and a fair number of interviews. It seemed that the citizens of Diamond City were overall less than willing to talk to him. Those who had been fierce supporters of the late mayor were also the sort to… look down upon the relationship between the synth detective and his ghoul lover. As rumors and stories had spread, Nick had found his job more and more difficult. 

On the other hand, those who had opposed McDonough were silent for another reason. It seems the mysterious murderer had become somewhat of an icon to them. They were more interested in finding him to celebrate what he had done than to punish him. As their interest and the detective’s were in direct conflict most refused to comment. 

Despite this, he had managed to pull together some scraps of knowledge. Pages of notes and bags containing evidence were scattered across his desk, other cases stacked neatly in piles on the floor. The radio in his office played smooth jazz quietly, helping Nick gather his thoughts as he surveyed the fruits of his labor. Despite how cliche it may seem this particular music had always done quite well to help him focus. 

Metal fingers drummed relentlessly on the wooden desk, chipping away paint and then wood. It happened slowly enough that he didn’t notice. Hell, he didn’t even know how fast time was passing at this point. Everything had seemed to come to a stop.

Even the lights did not betray him. His office had no windows and the artificial lights in the room flickered and crapped out consistently no matter the hour. The only sign of the passing time was the occasional conversation that drifted in through the thin walls. 

“Jesus, Nicky. Have you moved at all since last night?” The subtle creak of metal joints confirmed what Ellie had asked. It seemed Valentine had not moved for hours, staying bent over his desk, perfectly still. Some oil would definitely be in order when he had the chance. 

Ellie Perkins had been his secretary and assistant for a while now. At first, he’d been able to handle cases just fine on his own. Some runaway spouses or children were routine and usually didn’t take too long to solve. Even those had begun to pile up as his expertise had become more well-known. Help had become a necessity. 

At the time, the choices had seemed slim. There wasn’t a broad in Diamond City who’d seemed up to task. They were great girls, of course, but not tough enough for the work he might ask of them. To do so would be suicide for them and he didn’t need that on his conscious.

When a girl from Goodneighbor had walked into his office one day, shoulders thrust back and chin held high it had seemed like an answer from whatever God might still be around. It was apparent she could handle herself and practically demanded a job. He’d given it her on the spot.

Since then, she’d been his faithful partner, looking after him when he forget. Hell, she was probably the closest thing he had to a friend. It should have come to no surprise to him that when he attempted a misdirection that she stared him down until he relented. She knew him far too well for that. “No, I’ve been here all night. I need to solve this.”

She walked over, rubber in her sneakers squeaking on the wood floor as she did so. Nick made no protests as her hand grabbed his shoulder and practically shoved him down into his chair. “Then let me help,” she said, with a smile as she pulled another chair up to the other side of the desk, immediately picking up one of his notes and scanning it. “We got any suspects?”

She knew already, of course. It was a trick he’d taught her: talk through the problem as if you were seeing it for the first time. And so he did. “We have plenty. Half of Diamond City and practically all ghouls had motive. The Slog and Goodneighbor would be the most likely origins of a ghoul who would have done it, if you ask me. Each have a large number of ghouls from Diamond City.” 

She nodded, putting down the note in her hand and picking up another. “All pretty general. Any evidence that would point us towards a specific person?” As she asked, her eyes caught the knife on the table and she picked it up. Dried blood caked the blade and it looked very familiar though she’d not seen it in here before. “What’s this?”

The detective’s face hardened, lips pressing together into a line. “The murder weapon. More specifically Hancock’s knife if I’m correct.” It had been the hardest thing for Nick to accept. He’d found it days later, tossed in the dried grass beneath the mayor’s office. It seemed sloppy to leave it there but there was no denying what it was. “He’s still the main suspect.”

Valentine’s metal hand lifted his hat while the other travelled across his scalp. “Found a few more people who confirmed he was the man in the trench coat that Geneva saw. Whether he was actually running from the murder remains unclear.” Even as he said it, he found himself doubting the words. Was it unclear? Or was he just telling himself that to avoid facing the truth?

The clink of metal on wood and the sound of his assistant’s voice once again cut through his thoughts. “What about this, here?” She asked, finger landing on one of his scrawled interviews. Myrna’s. “Have you told anyone about the synth components you found on McDonough’s body?”

He hadn’t. It had seemed safer not to tell, for the sake of finding the truth. “No… But she said something about it, didn’t she?” He hadn’t noticed at the time. Perhaps his processors were getting old. It seemed the line between what he perceived and what really were was getting more and more blurred recently. 

“Bastard was a synth. Whoever killed him was doing Diamond City a real service. Your kind isn’t welcome here,” Ellie quoted, reading off the page. Myrna had become rather famous around Diamond City for her… preferences towards humanity. She had never gotten violent towards any non-humans but she rarely had the chance to interact with any besides the detective himself. Well, not that she was aware of at any rate. “Do you think maybe she believed Piper’s article?”

He hadn’t realized before but it seemed rather out of character for Myrna to state it with such positivity. Only a month ago, she’d seemed sure that the Mayor was human. “I doubt it was Piper’s article. Does she have an alibi?” Fingers once again started tapping the wood as his yellow eyes scanned over the paper. He couldn’t remember any evidence that might potentially link Myrna to any of this but it was possible. 

A quick scan brought the answer he hoped for. “No, just says that she was out. Pretty ambiguous.” Another set of notes found their way into her hands. “And look at this. There are a number of people who said that they saw Wiseman. He doesn’t usually come this far south, does he?”

The synth nodded. “If I’m remembering correctly he’s trying to set up a more permanent trade route between Diamond City and the Slog for tarberries.”

“Both have motive. Maybe we can find a link-” Ellie began before the Detective raised his skeletal hand, cutting her off. The lights flickered once more in the moment of silence. 

It took him a moment to find the courage to speak, resignation written in every line of his face. “I would love to believe that someone else did this. More probably. But we just don’t have the evidence. I think it’s time to face the fact that Hancock did this.” He could practically hear her heart break and couldn’t stop his from doing the same.


	5. A Game of Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine returns to Goodneighbor to confront and arrest Hancock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating this. Sudden lack of motivation and all that. You know how it is. But I do plan to finish it and after Kallika left some nice comments a couple days ago I went ahead and finished this chapter. So this, folks, is why you should leave nice comments on your favorite fanfics. Go. Right now. Before reading this. Go comment on your favorite fanfic then come back and read this.

Nick Valentine’s arrival in Goodneighbor was expected. While the synth hardly felt the effects of the elements anymore, instinct drove him to tug his trench coat tighter to his body, collar popped up to shield his exposed wiring from the wind. The night was just beginning to creep its way across the sky and as the months drudged on, the end of each day brought with it a biting cold. Despite the hour, the city of Goodneighbor shone bright, like a spotlight nestled between the blackened shell of the rest of Boston. 

Even before stepping past the gate the detective knew that something was amiss. It was quieter than was normal. More still. Upon entering, he discovered why. Much of the town stood just beyond the wall, silently. Several stood near their beloved mayor, baseball bats and tire irons clenched in hand and fire in their eyes. Far more, however, stood tired and nervous, eyes flitting between the detective and the mayor standing opposite each other. Hancock’s black eyes, however, never strayed from Nick’s yellow ones. No words were needed in this moment. Everyone knew why Nick was here.

A fight seemed ready to break at a moment’s notice. The town had been fiercely protective of their beloved mayor from the moment he first took office. There was no question that in this moment, they would die for him. A simple raised hand from the ghoul himself seemed to bring even the angriest to heel. “I understand what you have to do, Valentine. All I ask is that you allow me one conversation. After that, you do whatever you need. No one here will stop you.”

For a moment the world fell away. Synth and ghoul watched each other intently. It had been nearly two months since they had last met and the interaction had hardly ended on a good note. Nick had visited the town since then, following up leads and what not, but they’d avoided contact. Standing here now, forced to face each other, to see how things had changed… Whatever functioned as a heart in the old synth’s beaten-up shell broke all over again. There was really no question if Valentine would grant his wish.

The pair absconded from the crowd, followed only by Hancock’s frankly quite intimidating bodyguard. In a second, the roar and chill of the outside wind was replaced by the creak of wooden stairs hundreds of years old and a dance of dust in still air. There was silence as they entered the office and took seats of couches opposite each other. Far more spent canisters of jet and emptied bottles of liquor littered the tables and floors than was usual, the detective noted. He remained quiet on the fact, however. It was blatantly obvious that at the moment Hancock was painfully sober. 

Neither were sure what to say for several moments so the silence stretched longer and longer. It was far too easy to get caught up in thoughts, in memories. Fahrenheit soon took the cue and retreated to guard the door offering them some form of limited privacy. The last time the two men had been alone in this room together the atmosphere had been much different. Nick could still remember the feel of his lips that night - the look in his eyes as Valentine left him. 

The silence finally came to an end as the mayor leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “I did not kill my brother.” 

“Hancock-” Nick responded, voice more of a gravelly groan than he intended. 

A raised hand halted the synth’s speech. “You promised me a conversation,” Hancock said evenly. “Let me say my piece.” He paused to wait for a nod of agreement before continuing. “Everything I told you that night was the truth. I really did lose my knife. I really did run into trouble on the way to the city. You know how that town is about people like us. Why blame a human when you could blame it on a monster right? I was set up.”

Nick pulled off his fedora and tossed it on the table, running his skeletal hand over his head then along his jaw. “I expected you to run. It was pretty obvious you knew I was coming yet here you are.” If the sudden side-track in conversation surprised Hancock, he didn’t show it. “I’ll indulge this little… scenario of yours. Convince me that someone else did it and you can walk out of here a free man.” 

The two had done this before. On nights where Nick worked late, lanterns dimmed low and his lover curled beside him, they would talk of the difficult cases. It had become a game. The ghoul played detective, toying with an odd mix of theory, conjecture, and evidence in an effort to help. Often, nothing came of it. Hancock was untrained and often dealt too much in the theoretical for Nick’s fact driven tastes. 

For this, he would make an exception. Circumstantial evidence would do in this case -- anything to believe that he hadn't done it. 

Hancock wasted no time in taking up to opportunity. He rose without another word and went to his desk. As always, the wood was covered in papers and files and pens and chems. Plastic jet containers clicked against the floor as they were brushed aside. The orange light of the lamp cast a ghostly glow across his face, catching each pit and ridge of his rugged skin. 

After several minutes of searching he had returned to the couch, spreading out papers across the foot table. The messy, scratchy handwriting covering the paper was unmistakable. Hancock had, as he had implied earlier, done quite a bit of research on his own. Nick could not be sure exactly where his eyes wandered but it wasn't hard to guess his focus was on the documents before him. Hancock’s teeth kneaded the husk of his lip as the silence stretched on.

It quickly became clear he had not collected his thoughts well enough. This was typical of Hancock, of course, and Nick was hardly surprised. “Start with the knife. It's the knife. It's the most damning piece of evidence against you,” he suggested.

With a cough, the ghoul nodded and began speaking. “I lost it a week before the murder. Fahrenheit can testify to that. I got into a fight with a drifter in the Third Rail. He had a knife so I went for mine too but it wasn't there. Whitechapel Charlie and Magnolia can back that up. Ham was the one who broke up the fight. Ask any of them.” Nick would. 

The detective leaned forward, metal fingers rubbing across his chin. “And how did it end up in Diamond City? As far as I know you hadn't been in a month.” It was, of course, possible that Hancock had been without informing him but unlikely. There was still the possibility he had found it and used it for the murder.

“I'm not sure. Like I said, I never saw it again. All I know is someone else must have found it and used it.” His voice remained even despite knowing how damning this would sound. “I do suspect someone though. Wiseman came through around that time. Said he was stopping by on his way to the City. Something about seeing old friends that had to leave after my brother took office.” He paused, as if for dramatic effect. He never could turn that flare for the dramatic off it seemed. “Fahrenheit says she found him snooping around the State House late one night after I was already in bed. He was on his way out when she found him but she watched him the rest of the way.”

It was interesting that was for sure. There were several reasons for one to visit the home of John Hancock but it was suspicious none the less. There was only one problem with the theory. It didn't explain everything. “And what about the mutilation to the body? Why would Wiseman check if the former Mayor was a synth? And why risk all he’s built at the Slog on this? Why frame you?”

Hancock laughed, relaxing back into the cushions of the couch. He seemed far too relaxed about the holes in his theory. “He's never been my biggest fan. Back when the ghouls got kicked out and I came along, he had his questions about my loyalty and my chem habit was hardly a secret. Even know he has some idea that my intentions as mayor here aren't entirely pure. Why not take out both McDonoughs at once, right?” There was a bitter note in his otherwise cheery time that Nick chose to say nothing about.

“As for why he would risk it,” Hancock continued, “You’re right. I doubt he would. He would convince someone else to. He wouldn't need to enter Diamond City himself, he wouldn't need to worry about getting caught in the act or afterwards. I've got a trader who runs between the City and Goodneighbor that confirms he say Wiseman waiting in an abandoned building. Said it looked like he was waiting for someone. Wasn't sure who it could've been but then I realized something. Who's the only one who would kill McDonough if someone suggested to her that he was a synth?”

It was an obvious answer of course. Valentine had considered it himself but hadn't had the evidence to support the theory. This was what he needed. “Myrna,” he answered, finding a smile spreading across his lips and leaning forward.

Hancock mirrored the behavior. “Exactly.”


	6. Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to Kallika because I likely wouldn't have written it without their comment. Nick Valentine returns to Diamond City, a story is published in the Publick Occurrences, a new mayor is chosen, and our story comes to an end.

Green light from a terminal flickered across the walls of the small Diamond City room, chasing away darkness and replacing it instead with an eerie glow. The steady noisy clack of sticky keys was followed by long pauses of silence before continuing once again as Piper Wright wrote late into the night. The residents of the house had long since learned to ignore it. When the keys fell silent gentle breathing could be heard from the lower floor where a young girl slept. 

The woman at the terminal leaned back into her chair with a heavy sigh, fingers running through her tangled hair. As million words ran through her head at once, pairing up then disappearing, she gnawed at the skin of her thumb. No. None of this was right. 

A faint knock on the front door barely carried through her mind but a second, louder one roused her. The chair squealed as she pushed it away and stood in one fluid motion. A second later brought the creak of wooden stairs and the groan of her housemate asleep just feet away. 

Before her would be house guest knocked a third time, she pulled open the door and put a finger to her mouth. Her visitor stepped back and she joined him outside, pulling her jacket tighter around her as the door clicked shut behind her. “You got any idea what time it is, Valentine?”

Nick Valentine stood just before her, yellow eyes shining brighter for a moment, causing her own green eyes to squint. When they dimmed once again he responded. “2:41 AM, it seems.” While Piper’s breath left behind a cloud of mist, hanging in their air, Valentine’s did not.

No one needed a reminder that the prize detective of Diamond City was less than human. Torn skin and exposed wiring did that well enough on it’s own. Still, it was always chilling when she discovered some new difference. She could say all day that she trusted Nick -- she might well believe it too -- but there was something about him that she didn’t trust too. The part that had been put there by the Institute. 

Metal fingers scraped lightly across the table as Valentine picked up the latest issue of Publick Occurrences off the press. “Still no story on who the Mayor really was? Or should I say what.” His eyes turned their glow from the paper to her. “I would have thought you would have wanted to gloat. You were right all along, after all, darlin’.” He tossed the paper aside once again and slipped his hands into the pocket of his trenchcoat. 

It was no use pretending she didn’t know. They’d known each other too long for that. Instead, she looked away, eyes fixing on the discarded paper. There’d been only two new editions since the murder. One had been a nothing piece. A bit of fluff written about Takahashi. The other had been about the case. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it was about the scandalous in which the prime suspect had been found. 

Black curls fell into Piper’s face as she tried to hide from his gaze. The writing had been a bit overzealous in its description of the affair. It had hardly done Valentine any favors in a town that already had trouble deciding what it thought of him. “Nick…”

He raised a hand and she fell silent. “If you’re still as devoted to the truth as I think you are, I have something that may be of interest.” His jacket rustled quietly as he withdrew a folder. “In this folder, I have all the evidence I would need to convict the real killers. Of course, I can’t use it. Your little stunt means that anything I do to get Hancock off the hook for this fails. So you’re going to publish it.” There was no question about it. One way or another, she would do as he was asking.

That said, it wasn’t hard to convince her. The promise of a good story was enough. “Killers? As in more than one?” He nodded slowly, shadow stretching down to cover his whole face. “And I only get to see it if I agree to publish?” Another nod. 

Chairs were pulled together in a corner of the deck. The light of a lamp spilled onto a clipboard of notepaper. “Sing your song, Valentine.” The file passed hands and papers were laid out where they could look over them together. Notes were taken and hushed conversation was exchanged into the early morning. 

“Hancock exonerated of McDonough Murder, real culprits discovered!” The headline proclaimed several days later. “Months long investigation comes to an end as new evidence is found concerning the murder of the late Mayor McDonough. An anonymous tip lead Diamond City Security to the residence of Myrna where bloody synth components were discovered.

“During the investigation into his murder, it was discovered that the mayor had indeed been a synth as this newspaper claimed last year. This information was kept secret by City Security for the reason of helping to locate the killer. It has been confirmed by Danny Sullivan of Diamond City Security that the components found in Myrna’s collection did in fact belong to the mayor. 

“Last night, Myrna was taken into custody and will be held in the cell in the security office until a new mayor can be elected and decide her fate. Percy will be running Diamond City Surplus during day hours until further notice. During her interrogation it was also revealed that she had an accomplice. She has identified her partner as Wiseman, ghoul leader of the Slog settlement, and claims he was the one who orchestrated the plan. Wiseman is still at large and was not able to be reached for comment on the charges against him. 

“With the real culprits now identified, Mayor John Hancock of Goodneighbor has been cleared of all comments. When asked for comment he said ‘Damn right I didn’t do it.’ While many of the rules put forth under McDonough’s time in office are up in the air as of now, Hancock has agreed to stay out of Diamond City and encourage all the ghouls of his town to do the same.

“Elections for the new mayor will take place on Tuesday.”

From the moment Nat got up on her box to start hawking the paper, the town was abuzz. Whispers and rumors had ruled the streets from the moment Crazy Myrna had been paraded through the city in cuffs. It was suggested that perhaps she had been a synth or had harmed someone she thought was. While not far from the truth, no one had suspected her of the murder. 

It was with new eyes that Diamond City saw Nick Valentine the day the article had come out. While his name had been omitted from the article everyone knew that he had to be involved in this. The security hardly had the ability to investigate a murder like this. Nor the interest.

As Nick stepped confidently across the worn stones of the street, Ellie Perkins stuck to his side like glue. Neon lights caught in her eyes and shown daggers back at anyone who dared look into them. Days on end of brutal treatment at the hands of past clients and neighbors kept a knife clutched in her pocket. 

Today, her fiery gaze was not returned by the onlookers. Instead, slack jaws and wide eyes looked their way. Her fingers caught the sleeve of Nick’s jacket and the pair came to a stop. The expressions plastered on the faces of their fellow citizens reflected not hate but… admiration. 

Pastor Clements was the first to step forth from the crowd, a hand outstretched for the detective’s own. The detective reached out to return the gesture but stopped, twisting his metal hand palm up to examine it before meeting the pastor’s gaze. He saw no disgust nor hesitation in his eyes so he took the man’s hand. 

“The way this city and its people have treated you is an offense to God. Let me be the first to extend my deepest apologies. Once again, you’ve come to our aid without any prospect of personal gain. Thank you,” Clements voiced loud enough for the crowd to hear, hitch in his voice hinting at the emotion hidden under well practiced words. 

A light smile played across Nick’s lips. “You’re preachin’ to the choir, Pastor,” he replied. The synth’d done his best to stay away from all that godly business. Synthetic humans were hardly a topic addressed in any holy text and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face what that might mean for his own soul. But the Pastor did believe. That was what mattered. “Means a lot,” Valentine added, patting the man on the shoulder. 

All the tension that had crackled through the air moments before dissipated. Men and women began muttering apologies and gratitude. Some gave a firm handshake or awkward smile, others kept their eyes on the ground and shuffled from one foot to another. 

The familiar pink glow of the Valentine’s Detective Agency sign, normally an eyesore, brought a sense of relief crashing over the old synth. With a silent raised hand, he excused himself from the small crowd and walked inside, followed seconds later by Ellie. With a pop, his lighter caught and lit his cigarette with a hiss. Smoke burned against his tongue and he sighed a cloud of relief. 

The trench coat floated through the air as he spun it off his shoulders and onto the back of his chair. As he settled behind his desk, tossing his legs up onto the desk and tipping his hat to cover his eyes, Ellie did the same. 

The sounds of paper rustling, a foot tapping. “Somethin’ on your mind?” He asked, taking a drag and letting the smoke creep out through his circuitry. The silence stretched on long enough that he tipped his hat back to show one of his eyes. He found her chewing her lip and frowning in concentration. The brim of his hat dropped again as he waited for her. 

“What if I ran for mayor?” She burst out finally. 

Valentine hummed a chuckle softly. “Well wouldn’t that be something. A gal from Goodneighbor running Diamond City and a fellow from the green jewel running Goodneighbor.” A surprised utterance from Perkins reminded him that Hancock’s origins were far from common knowledge and he waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.” 

An indignant huff was the only reply she gave before falling silent again for several seconds. It seemed as if she planned to stay that way until speaking once again, quite suddenly. “So you wouldn’t be upset? If I did.” The uncertainty in her voice was almost an insult. Did she truly have so little faith in him.

The hat lifted from his face only long enough to look into her eyes and reassure her. “I’d be the first one there voting for you.”

And so he was. The weeks between the article and the election were a flurry of activity for the City. Already spent from his investigation, the synth avoided all the excitement. During which times he did emerge from the Detective Agency, he was treated with only kindness and respect, as it had been in the years before the murder. It hardly seemed the time to push his luck. Too easily would the city turn back to gossip if he failed to stay out of sight, out of mind. 

When the day came to vote, Nick was the first in line as the polls opened, casting his support to Perkins. Much of the city soon followed suit. Nearly all who lived in Diamond City knew her. And nearly all of them had in some way, received her sympathetic service with agency. Moe Cronin stood no chance. 

No sooner had the count been released than she had taken to town square, still dressed in ragged skirt and scarf. “Months ago, I wouldn’t have won this election. Under McDonough, Diamond City became a place free of synths and ghouls and all manner of folks deemed unsavory by folks who never had to live outside these walls. We were told to hate those we turned away. And that hate nearly destroyed us.

“The fact is, it wasn’t a ghoul or synth who killed the late mayor. It was one of our own, driven by hate. When we begin to accept these people as our equals, we make Diamond City stronger. It is for that reason, that I hereby repeal the ban on ghouls in the city. From now on, all people will find a home in our great city.”

As the congregation broke into a frenzy, Nick just watched and smiled. Despite the turmoil, the response to the announcement did indeed seem quite positive. Mayor Perkins caught the eye of the old synth and returned his smile. She had done right by him and he expected she would continue to do so. 

Abandoning the streets of the city, Valentine returned to his modest office. The door shut, followed by the click of the lock and the room fell to shadows. Save, of course, for the intense glow of his eyes and the burning tip of a cigarette. “Now, detective,” came a gravelly voice in the dark. “I believe we have some unfinished business.”

Nick waltzed over slowly, clicking the desk lamp on with one hand while the other came to rest on the desk. The gleam of the lamp illuminated the room just enough to reveal John Hancock, sat on his desk like a picture from a film. Iconic red coat and accompanying blue vest were folded delicately on the chair, shirt already loosened to show a generous amount of skin. A cigarette hung from his lips and his eyes already suggested a good number of things. 

“Best we not put it off then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who left kudos and comments chapter after chapter. This was a pet project of mine and it was so nice sharing the experience with all you!


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